


Window of Opportunity

by daphnerunning, Galiko



Series: The List [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Anal Sex, Condoms, Exhibitionism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galiko/pseuds/Galiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Inter High training camp shenanigans. The window of opportunity is a literal thing when Takao sees fit to sneak through it and join Midorima in his (luckily?) acquired solitary sleeping space. Really, he can't help it--not when Midorima needs a proper night sleep, and Takao's been told he's quite warm and decent enough company (no matter how Midorima seems fit to deny it). </p><p>PWP, fumbly, needy boyfriend smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Window of Opportunity

Midorima Shintarou is _finicky_. 

 

Takao knows it. Doesn't really care, either, because he's used to it ten times over by now. In a way, it's really cute--lots of ways, actually, especially in the way that Shin barely slinks his way through practice that day, courtesy of not sleeping a wink the night prior. Ah, well, it's to be expected. Takao, of all people, certainly _knows_ that the other boy can't sleep in a room with anyone else… well. Except for him.

 

He rolls his eyes at the complaints of the upperclassmen when Shin gets a room 'all to his prissy self', courtesy of his parents being friends with the owners (or something like that--probably longtime customers or business investors). A pity _his_ whining does little to sway the managers about getting _him_ a private room.

 

Shin-chan should _expect_ this, then.

 

Everyone else is asleep by the time he sneaks out one window and hops through Midorima's instead, flopping himself down gracelessly onto the futon next to him. "This is _much_ more comfortable," Takao happily declares. "You're so mean, you should have asked them to let _me_ stay in here with you." 

 

To be jolted out of a deep, thankfully _solitary_ sleep by the crashing of Takao through his window--onto his _person_ , no less--is hardly Midorima’s preferred method of waking. It’s Takao, of course, even if Midorima can’t see a thing, much less the other boy’s face, and already the tension he’d eased out of his shoulders with fifty precisely-counted exercises on each side of his body is creeping back in.

 

“Get out,” he says without preamble, refusing to move from his frozen position no matter that his shoulders are starting to cramp. “Secure your own private room if you don’t like ryoukan beds. I can’t sleep with someone else in the same room, you know that.”

 

"But you've slept with me in the same room before," Takao immediately complains, wriggling closer as he slings both an arm and a leg over the other boy to keep him from escaping. "Don't be so cruel, Shin-chan. We've barely had any time to spend together, and other people even keep inviting themselves to join our runs on the beach."

 

Far from any intention of escaping, Midorima simply lets out a sigh, letting his head tip back to the slender pillow. At least Takao is warm, and like most ryokan, this one isn’t terribly enthusiastic about central heating. 

 

Takao isn’t _much_ of a weight, after all.

 

“At least get under the blanket.”

 

Immediately, Takao grins, enthusiastically burrowing beneath the blanket to better slide up close. "Ahhh, you're always so _cold_ ," he mutters, poking at one long leg with his foot. "No wonder you can't sleep well." 

 

“My cold blood lets me focus my shots without accounting for my heartbeat,” Midorima replies immediately. “It’s a definite advantage. Perhaps that is part of the reason why you can only play point guard.”

 

Takao frowns. More accurately, it's a pout. " _Only_ play point guard? Rude. You wouldn't be able to score as much without me helping all the time, so be nice." He idly wriggles closer all the same, grabbing for Midorima's hands underneath the blanket to rub them between his own. "Good circulation should be key." 

 

“Stop that. My hand lotion is too expensive to let you rub it off of me.”

 

A flat stare is his initial response. "I could lick it off, then."

 

“I--”

 

Sometimes, less common lately, Takao is _far_ too good at catching him off guard. “Are you going to go to sleep, or are you going to torment me all night?”

 

"I just want to make sure you sleep _really_ well," Takao wheedles, unfazed by the snippiness as he flops a leg over Midorima's hip, butting his head up underneath the other boy's chin. "You don't need to go to bed all tense like this." 

 

Takao is something of a mystery to Midorima. Everyone else has always filed him away as _particular_ , and avoided him accordingly. The few friends he’s ever had have been other oddballs, geniuses, prodigies, loners and freaks. Takao is handsome, popular, wealthy, and everyone seems to (wrongly) agree that he possesses excellent fashion sense as well.

 

And for some reason he’s here, draping a leg over Midorima’s hips. “Your ideas are always...stressful, before they’re relaxing.”

 

"That's because you think too much about it. You're a little obsessive and you should quit it." Takao hums, parting his lips to idly scrape his teeth over the swell of Midorima's Adam's apple. "Just learn to enjoy things. Like me, I'm _very_ enjoyable." 

 

“Being obsessive and enjoying things...ah.” Midorima clears his throat, and brings his hand up to Takao’s shoulder, trailing it down the curve of his arm to twine their fingers together. “I suppose they don’t….have to be mutually exclusive.”

 

That’s _one_ way to let Takao know how much he’s been craving this since the last time, he supposes. Even the memory is enough to make his blood heat, inasmuch as it ever does.

 

"Ooh, was Shin-chan implying that he's obsessed with _me?_ " It's impossible not to tease Midorima when he _slowly_ starts to unwind and act like he's actually _interested_. Takao sighs out a slow, pleased breath, giving another, light nip to the arc of that pale throat as he squirms forward, liking how he can already feel Midorima heat up against him and squeezing his hands gently. "The more you complain, the nicer it is when you finally admit you like this, you know." 

 

“Hmph. I _never_ said that,” Midorima protests, letting his head tip back, shifting down so his head doesn’t thunk against the wall. It makes his legs below the knee hang off the futon, toes wriggling against the floor, but at his height that can’t be helped. “You aren’t using my good hand lotion again, I don’t care if you have to go to the drugstore in the middle of the night.”

 

His words are sharp, but the voice is breathy, elongated with every scrape of Takao’s teeth against his skin, with every thought of how nice it is that Takao knows what he wants, and is so good at forcing the issue when sometimes, Midorima doesn’t know _how_ to relent.

 

"But it's _cold_ outside." Takao's eyes lid, and he frees one hand to slide it up Midorima's chest, rolling them with an easy push. "And if I leave," he adds on a rumbling sigh, wriggling his way up to perch himself over Midorima's hips, "then Shin-chan's gonna be all alone and will get all cold again himself. That's no good." His head tilts, teeth scraping along the line of Midorima's jaw and up to his ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth. "I can just buy you more lotion later--ahh, you've got sexy eyes, I wanna touch your lashes." 

 

Midorima wants to protest, but the words just don’t come like usual, not when Takao is on top of him, when his mouth is on him, when he’s pressed up against Midorima’s hips and every slow motion makes Midorima’s breath come a little faster as he hardens inside his pajama pants. “How--you can’t even see my eyes,” he mutters, feeling his cheeks heat as he squirms, blinking owlishly up. “It’s dark. I can tell that even without my glasses.”

 

Takao slowly grins, another careful, sucking bite pressed just below one ear. "Said as if I don't look at them all the time in broad daylight. Also," he absently adds, trailing his fingertips up the side of Midorima's face, carefully thumbing just beneath his lashes, "hawk eye, remember?" Okay, so it doesn't _exactly_ work like that, but Shin doesn't have to know those details. Better is wriggling down and exhaling a ragged breath at the press of his cock against that flat stomach, and god, Midorima's hard, too, and that's _nice_. It's always good _feeling_ exactly how much Midorima's enjoying something, especially when the words from his mouth rarely match his actions.

 

“You’re an idiot. There’s no way it works like that.” Hesitantly, Midorima lets his hand come up, up Takao’s back to thread into his hair, fingernails curling lightly against his scalp in what can only be called encouragement. Takao’s head isn’t a basketball, no matter the curve and weight of it--there’s no hair on a basketball, and the curve is more precise, more elegant, less warm--

 

Midorima’s not really sure what he’d been talking about.

 

“You’re poking my stomach. Move.”

 

"But then I can't bite at you as easily," Takao complains, and sinks his teeth into the curve of Midorima's shoulder for emphasis, all while _deliberately_ letting his cock grind down against Midorima's stomach. "Too tall, sometimes," he murmurs, pulling back with a wet suck and a breathy sigh, wriggling to slide a hand back and sloppily grab and stroke Midorima's cock through his pajamas all the same. "You _like_ when I bite you, too." 

 

“If you leave a mark where my uniform doesn’t cover--”

 

Anything else Midorima had been about to say is lost at the first grab of Takao’s fingers, curling around his cock. “You’re--short,” he gasps, giving up on keeping his eyes open when he can’t see anything anyway, when his breath is so fast, when it’s all he can do not to just spread his legs to grind up against his friend, rutting shamelessly until he’s finished.

 

That won’t do. Not while he’s still Japanese. 

 

“Just--” _Hurry_.

 

"Even if I have to use your precious hand lotion?" Midorima's at his _best_ like this, breathy and a little whiny around the edges when he's trying so hard not to be, rutting up into Takao's hand like a harlot. 

 

Takao can't help but smirk, nipping again at Midorima's throat before reaching up, grabbing at the bottle in question and then slinking back, dragging Midorima's pajamas down with a curl and pull of his fingers. "You don't look very cold anymore," Takao murmurs, rummaging into one of his own pockets to pull a condom free. He lets the package dangle from his teeth as he slicks his fingers up, a knee nudging Midorima's legs further apart. "Shivery, though--" A slick finger drags against the other boy's hole, and Takao sucks in a breath through his nose as he slowly, carefully wriggles it inside. "'s like you're sucking me in, Shin-chan--you want it that bad?" 

 

Midorima’s eyes roll back into his head, back arching into a taut bow as a shiver rakes up his spine, down again to his toes, waves crashing against each other as his mind fizzles gratefully out. Logically, there’s no reason he should enjoy this kind of thing so much--it’s shameful, messy, awkward, nothing someone like _him_ should ever be doing. 

 

Takao, for some reason, likes it enough to do it to him more than once, and every time it somehow manages to turn off his constantly whirring brain. Maybe because this has nothing to do with math and skill and practice and fate, just the way having Takao slide something, even just a _finger_ inside him feels so overwhelmingly _good_. Midorima’s certain his own reactions can’t be anything worth enjoying, but Takao seems to anyway. He doesn’t even seem to mind that Midorima would rather die than say _yes_ , or the way he hisses out a breath through his teeth, hand clutching at Takao’s hair silently by way of encouragement.

 

Words _really_ aren't necessary, not when Midorima wriggles and writhes and arches, squeezing tight enough around that finger to make Takao's eyes flutter. "Yeah, good," he mutters through his teeth, drawing his hand back enough to eagerly press a second finger inside--maybe too fast, too insistently, but he can't _stop_. 

 

Twisting his hand, wriggling his fingers to better _stroke_ inside of him--all of it seems to make Midorima shudder around him that much more, and that all goes straight to his cock, making Takao snake his other hand down to squeeze himself, lest he go _insane_. "You're so hot inside-- _god_ , not fair." 

 

“Hurry.”

 

The word is soft, urgent, torn from his lips like a secret, and Midorima has to close his eyes lest he remember where he is and start thinking about how wrong it all is. Nothing ever feels like Takao inside him, thick and hard and insistent, foreign and exciting and all too _immediate_. Even thinking about it is a luxury he rarely allows himself, but now, with two fingers stroking inside him and turning his mind effectively to jelly, Midorima can’t think of anything _else_. 

 

Once again, and Midorima gasps for breath, legs trembling as they part. “H-hurry.”

 

"Knew you needed this, Shin-chan." Takao lurches up, mouthing a wet, sloppy kiss to the other boy's collarbone as he drags his hand free. He fumbles with the condom, shoving his own pajamas down and swallowing down a groan as he rolls it on, cursing how long that _takes_ (a few seconds, negligible for some, far too many when he has a squirming, eager Midorima _begging_ for him). Takao's hands splay over those long, lean thighs, breath fast and eager as he slides up closer, biting his lip when he guides his cock forward, pressing against Midorima before it finally sinks inside, eyes rolling back and hands grabbing, fumbling for slim hips to pull and hike them up, making it easier to slide in _deep_. 

 

Midorima can’t breathe. He tries, opening his mouth and sucking at the air, but no matter how much his lungs inflate, he doesn’t feel any less lightheaded, any less beside himself, any less dizzy. Takao is above him, lean and strong, hands firm on his thighs, his hips, touching him like a _woman_ , no matter that he’s taller by far and no less a man. None of that comes close to how it feels to have Takao pressing inside of him, stretching him wide and stealing his breath, making him _feel_ every pulse of his blood through their joining. 

 

_Yes, I needed it._

 

Probably there are some men who talk in bed like Takao, who make little jokes and teases and say dirty words, and Midorima envies them. There’s no room for thought in his mind, just room for thinking about Takao’s cock inside him, every last millimeter thrusting into him again and again, and the wild, unbridled joy Takao always takes in this--in _him_.

 

 _Almost got a noise out of him that time,_ Takao thinks, a languid grin curving his lips as he scrapes his teeth wherever he can reach, sloppy, wet kisses following in turn as his hands squeeze tight and _pull_ when his hips shove up, groaning out a ragged sound of his own when he feels Midorima _shudder_. 

 

"You've gotten _really_ good at taking my cock." _Maybe_ he shouldn't tease Shin so much, but he can't _help it_. If he can't keep his mouth busy kissing him, then he's _got_ to tease him. Takao scoots his knees up further, a hard shiver raking down his own spine when he shoves in as far as he can, and snakes a hand down, sucking in a sharp breath when he drags a thumb over that tight ring of muscle stretched around his cock. "S-still squirmy, though. You're not _fair_ , Shin." 

 

An urgent, needy bob of his head is all the agreement Takao gets, the closest thing to _verbal_ agreement he gets. He has needed this, more than he’s wanted to admit ever, but _getting_ it is more than he can handle. At least he has the decency to squeeze his eyes shut, to squirm down against Takao, fingernails raking through his hair where at least the marks will be hidden. 

 

A hard drive inside him, a ghost of a touch around his tight-stretched hole, and Midorima’s mouth parts, a soft “Ah!” of surprise coming out.

 

Damn it. Once he makes a noise, there’s no going back. 

 

The next thrust is enough, and his head falls back, a low, drawn-out groan coming from him and trailing into almost a scream, long fingers curling helplessly against Takao’s back.

 

Even as much as he _loves_ hearing Midorima, it's always unexpected, and almost always too _much_. Takao's hips twitch forward on their own accord, slapping forward harder, grinding in _deeper_ , and his teeth close too-hard around a nipple, drawing out the bite in a long, aching suck. "S-someone's gonna hear," Takao manages to gasp out, his own back arching beneath the clawing of those fingers, his hands splaying roughly around Midorima's hips and up around his waist, _knowing_ he's going to leave bruises, liking the thought of those aching and throbbing strangely tomorrow during practice to make him _remember_. "Everyone," he breathlessly corrects, one hand dragging up to cover Midorima's mouth as he thrusts forward _hard_ , eyes squeezing shut at that slick, hot slide, the obscene slap of skin, the way Midorima's cock throbs between them, "is gonna hear how much you like it when I _fuck you_." 

 

Midorima hears.

 

He just doesn’t _care_.

 

Long legs come up to wrap firmly around Takao’s hips, yanking him down hard, arching and writhing under those lips, those _teeth_ , those fingers and above all that cock throbbing inside him. Every motion he makes, clinging and squirming, is for _more_. He’s loud, behind Takao’s hand, unable to stop himself now he’s started, grunting wordless pleas and something more like screaming, focused on nothing but how good he feels, how _taken_ he feels, spread apart on Takao’s cock like some kind of easily-wooed female. 

 

Even the thought of their teammates hearing, of Seirin’s team hearing, isn’t enough to make him any less hard. If anything--

 

No, he’s _not_ going to come thinking about their faces if they hear, if they could _see_ him enjoying Takao’s fucking so thoroughly. 

 

He looks up, unable to see anything, knowing that Takao probably can, and even if his mouth is covered, he knows his eyes are pleading. _Harder, more, faster, please--_

 

One of these days, Shin's going to kill him.

 

 _What a way to go_ , Takao dimly thinks, hand pressing down maybe too hard over Midorima's mouth to keep him quiet--or at least, marginally so, because those noises are still so _loud_ to his own ears, every last one of them making him fuck in harder, clawing and grabbing at the futon now for leverage. His own back bows with the strain, his own breath ragged, his own groans and muffled, breathy grunts barely stifled into Midorima's skin when he bites and sucks whenever, _wherever_ he can. 

 

It takes _effort_ not to be ridiculously noisy when he comes, gasping out a hot, hard breath as he spills, holding Midorima far too tightly, hips grinding in hard enough to bruise, and it takes what's left of his coherent thoughts (there aren't many) to let one fumbling hand slide between them, grabbing and stroking Midorima's achingly hard, dripping cock. 

 

It’s hard to remember how to _move_ when he’s so dizzy, when Takao is covering his mouth and buried, quivering deep inside of him where he’s so rarely thought of having anyone, never anyone but Takao. His voice climbs into a high, needy, desperate shout behind Takao’s palm, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes when he spills himself all over Takao’s other hand, feeling the hot liquid splatter down over the heaving muscles of his own abdomen. 

 

Best of all, there are long, blissful minutes when all he can hear is breathing, all he can feel is the sensations of Takao’s body covering him, all he can think is _Yes, yes, thank you, yes_ while the sweat and come and tears cool on his skin.

 

"Ugggh, _fuck_ ," is Takao's low, ineloquent groan that breaks the silence moments later as he flops down, shivering as he buries his face into Midorima's chest. He's going to get bitched at in a minute to get off, that this is all sticky and gross and they can't exactly take a bath in the middle of the night and so it's all his fault, but until then, he's going to _enjoy_ being able to cuddle up against Shin and enjoy how the other boy feels when he's shaky and floppy and _sated_. "Shin-chan is _perfect_." 

 

Midorima can always yell at Takao later, he decides. Maybe just once, he’ll forget to yell at all. He lets an arm flop down around Takao’s back, thumb dragging down his spine as he heaves a long, slow breath that isn’t muffled by the other boy’s hand.

 

Words usually come easy to him, though not usually the right words (especially under pressure). Just now, though, he finds it hard to fumble for any of them. “Takao is….very skilled.”

 

"Mmnn? So long as I'm making you feel good." No bitching--that's an improvement for the night. Takao wriggles back, grimacing as he pulls out and peels the condom off (where the _fuck_ are they going to get rid of that?) before just giving up and flopping back down, nuzzling up underneath Midorima's chin. "Like it when you're all floppy. You should sleep well now, right?" 

 

Midorima doesn’t want to commit to something like good sleep, not when his horoscope has been so dismal the last couple of days, but….

 

“Most likely.” 

 

He wrinkles his nose, looking down at Takao’s hand in distaste. “Get rid of that before you fall asleep. I don’t want it to spill on us.”

 

"But I don't wanna move. You're comfortable." Eh, tossing it out the window will probably be fine. Takao sits up enough to tie the end of the condom off before tossing it--with intense amusement--out the open window. Hopefully, he'll remember it's there in the morning when he has to sneak out again. "If I wake up before you do," he sighs out as he flops back down, rubbing his face into Midorima's shoulder, "I'll make sure to listen to Oha Asa and pick up whatever your lucky item is when I go out for a run. Then you won't have to worry about it." 

 

“You’re the one making sure I sleep well,” Midorima points out with a yawn, the sleepiness of missing an entire night’s sleep plus the day’s practice catching up with him. He strokes a hand through Takao’s hair, tugging the blanket up over both of them. “It’s the least you can do.”

 

"Yeah, yeah." Takao happily curls himself into a ball, all too content with the idea of using Midorima as a pillow for the rest of the night. "Don't worry, Shin-chan. When have I ever not taken care of you?" 

 

Midorima’s eyes slide closed, a faint smile on his face. “Not tonight.”

 

 

 


End file.
